


Where Are You Tonight?

by Starlinghue



Category: Super Sons (Comics), Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alfred gives good advice, Eventual Romance, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlinghue/pseuds/Starlinghue
Summary: Damian and Jon have been living together for two years in a cramped studio apartment. When they're not fighting crime, Jon keeps going on bad dates, and Damian keeps trying to convince himself he isn't hopelessly in love with his best friend.





	Where Are You Tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place when Damian and Jon are around 19-21 years old. They're both still trying to figure things out. Espeially Damian. I hope you all enjoy reading this, I've grown pretty fond of Super Sons lately! (The title is randomly from a Dirty Dancing song)

"That just might've been the worst date in my life!"

Damian blinked himself awake, his vision swimming into focus on Jonathan, who was floating into view. His friend suddenly fell to end of the couch, just narrowly avoiding Damian's feet. He looked defeated.

"That's what you get for trusting an app," Damian grunted, rubbing his eyes and willing himself awake. "What did you expect? Prince Charming?"

"No," Jon huffed, "This guy was just so obnoxious. All he could seem to talk about was himself! And he was obviously a bottom, which was an immediate turn-off."

Damian smirked, "You're awfully quick to judge, considering you're half _alien_."

"Shut up, you're supposed to comfort me." Jon said, more than a hint exasperated. Rolling his eyes, Damian tried to sit up but found himself being tackled back into the couch cushions. Jon wailed sarcastically, "Oh, Damian, will I ever find love?"

"Not if you keep crushing my spleen," Damian warned, a touch threateningly. Jon laughed at the comment dismissively, but he made sure to untangle himself from his friend's arms, floating away into the kitchen.

They had been living together in this small studio apartment in Metropolis for almost two years. Jon was having a normal college experience; majoring in History and still not sure what he was going to do with his future— apart from the inevitability of fighting crime. Damian, however, was already so advanced in his education that pursuing an individual field of study was not the least bit compelling to him. However, he did think it would be valuable for him to spend some time apart from his father, and he was only a ferry ride away from Gotham if he was ever needed. Not to mention that Jonathan had practically begged him to come live with him, as he was desperate to get out of the house but his powers made living in college residence tricky, to say the least.

And, if he was being honest, it was getting hard for Damian to refuse anything Jon asked of him.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Jon came floating back to the couch, holding two spoons and a large tub of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough.

"We're going to eat ice cream, watch something dumb on Netflix, and I'm going to forget all about _Kyle_. Okay?"

"Okay," Damian agreed, still smirking. He couldn't help but feel a little pleased that Jon's date had gone so horribly. The last fling he'd had with a classmate had been unbearable, Damian was still trying to unhear their cooing voices and affectionate pet-names. Of course, that wasn't the only reason Damien was relieved.

While browsing through their movie options, Damian's gaze drifted to Jon's face, noting the curve of his jaw and the blue of his eyes. Burying his own face in the palm of his hand, Damian willed himself to regain control of his emotions.

"You alright?" Jon asked, and Damian peeked through his fingers, sliding his hand down so that it only covered his mouth, which was threatening to break into an almost giddy smile.

"Yeah. 'M fine." Damian mumbled, "Just tired."

"You shouldn't pull so many late nights in a row," Jon chastised, "You're not a machine, Damian."

 _How very true,_ Damian thought, wonderingly bleakly if things would be easier if he were.

In a rather complicated manner of speaking, Damian Wayne was, most regrettably, in love with his best friend.

How and when it had happened, Damian wasn't sure. For years, he and Jonathan had been a team, fighting alongside each other, solving mysteries, and feeling as close to normal as two boys born into their impossible situations could. They hadn't always gotten along, their personalities and interests clashed. But at their core, they both upheld the same belief for justice that their fathers did, and it was pretty damn hard not to start liking someone who you battled against danger with on an everyday basis.

So slowly, and clumsily, Damian came to love Jon. He loved and cared about him deeply, in more ways than one, and that was what made it so difficult for Damian to even acknowledge these feelings. 

From birth, it had been drilled into Damian's mind that forming any kind of attachment was a form of weakness. Bruce had taught him to forget this, to allow people into his heart, but that never stopped the lurking fear of abandonment and betrayal that came with any fondness Damian felt.

Naturally, he bottled his emotions up like a fine wine, and did his best to leave them unearthed.

"Let's just watch _Dirty Dancing_ , I can't find anything good." Jon sighed, snapping Damian out of his thoughts.

He groaned, "I must have every line of that old movie memorized."

"It's one of Mom's favorites, it's a comfort movie." Jon shrugged, and then he took a big spoonful of ice cream as the opening credits lit up the screen. Damian got up and dimmed the lights, and when he sat back down on the couch, Jon snuggled into his side, wordlessly offering the tub of frozen calories.

To Damian's chagrin, his breath hitched at his friend's immediate closeness. Distracting himself with the ice cream, Damian hoped Jon couldn't hear his heartbeat speeding up. Thankfully, Jon seemed completely immersed in the film.

_"It was the summer of '63. Back when everybody called me 'Baby' and it hadn't occurred to me to mind..."_

 

\---

 

Jon was a morning person, and because of this, he was kind enough to make Damian a smoothie for breakfast before he rushed off to class. Except on weekends, when Jon would take advantage of his freedom and sleep like a log. On these mornings, Damian was usually the first to wake up.

Except this particular Saturday, for some reason, Jon was awake, and he was bouncing on his feet while he made breakfast.

Because their apartment was more of a loft, it was one big open space, the only divisive walls were those that surrounded the bathroom. From his bed, Damian could see the kitchen, and for a quiet moment, he watched Jon, marveling at how normal their lives could be sometimes. The hands that were now delicately spreading butter across a bagel had been used just last night to toss a notorious crime boss through three walls.

"Hey, you're up!" Jon chirped, using his super speed to zip over to Damian's bedside. "Guess who's got a hot date tonight?"

"Alfred?" Damian teased, hoping his sarcasm could mask his own dread. It had barely been a week since Jon's last disastrous date, and already, he was moving on.

"You know, I bet Alfred does have a date, your butler has some game." Jon laughed, and then he floated so that he was hovering directly over Damian, their faces inches apart. "But nah, I'm going out with that cute guy from my Arts and Culture class. You know, Larry? Tall, blond, and handsome?"

"It rings a bell," Damian closed his eyes, wondering if he could go back to sleep and ignore the sudden ache in his chest. With his eyes closed, it also made it easier to resist the urge to lean up and kiss his hovering friend.

"He's taking me to an early dinner and then we're going to go dancing," Jon gushed, "Oh man, what should I wear? I need to look good tonight."

"That tight purple shirt," Damian blurted in spite of himself, "You know, the douchey v-neck."

"You're right, I do look good in that shirt." There was a whoosh of air, and knowing Jon had flown away, Damian opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

"So you really like this guy?" Damian asked, though every fiber of his being screamed in protest.

"Well, he's cute." Jon's voice carried from across the room, "And he's not an asshole, that's for sure. I've always liked talking to him, he's so honest about what he's thinking."

Damian wished he could say the same, in that moment. He wanted to leap to his feat and boldly declare that if Jon wanted to dance, then Damian would gladly be his partner. The very idea of this burned Damian's cheeks red with embarrassment as soon as he thought it, and he rolled over in bed, pretending he had never once considered something so foolish.

For the rest of the day, Damian busied himself with exercise. He did several push-ups, lifted weights, punched sandbags, and kept himself so physically focused that everything else, including his own thoughts, became static in the background. Damian barely even noticed when Jon left for his date, except for when he waved goodbye playfully and chirped, "Don't wait up!"

Once he was certain Jon was well out of earshot, Damian let out a frustrated snarl and punched the sandbag so hard that it sent a dull shock through his entire arm. After a few ragged breaths and a long, meditative pause, Damian decided he had to talk to someone about this, otherwise he would implode.

After getting properly dressed, Damian left for the next ferry to Gotham, wondering if he should have alerted his father he would be visiting. Chances were, Bruce wouldn't even be there, he did still have a job. Once the ferry docked, Damian decided it might be less embarrassing if he just confided in Alfred.

The cab ride to Wayne Manor was silent and uneventful. Damian's eyes scanned the streets for any trouble, but he mostly felt nostalgic. Sometimes he missed this city, no matter how chaotic it was. It all came down to missing his family, which Damian would stubbornly refuse to admit, despite knowing it was true.

Alfred was delighted to buzz him in at the gates, albeit a bit worried. Damian rarely visited during the day, and it had been so long since he'd set foot in the manor aside from being in the cave.

"Master Damian, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Alfred asked as soon as Damian came through the main doors.

"Is father here?" Damian asked. brushing off the butler's previous question. Alfred shook his head and explained Bruce's schedule for the day, but Damian was only half listening.

"Right, well. Truthfully, I wanted to ask you for some advice." Damian admitted this at length, and Alfred's eyes positively lit up.

"Shall we accompany this tête-à-tête with some tea, Master Damian?"

"Yes, please." Damian smiled slightly. After he had moved out, Damian had missed Alfred's tea most of all.

They moved into the kitchen, where Damian sat by the marble island and watched Alfred gather the tea leaves and begin boiling the water. It was evident that he was was waiting for Damian to speak first.

"I have come to develop feelings of a... romantic nature. For someone." Damian cleared his throat, glad that Alfred's back was turned to him. "They don't know, and I'm sure they don't reciprocate. Actually, they're on a date with some other jackass right now."

Alfred continued making the tea quietly, and Damian, flustered, tried to voice his frustrations.

"I don't want to ruin the friendship I developed with this person by muddling it with romance," Damian sighed, "I can't lose what we already have, and it's not like I can just outright admit my feelings without screwing things up."

Alfred poured the boiled water into the teapot, his eyes never lifting to meet Damian's troubled gaze.

"This person never even saw me as an option before, it would be so sudden if I were to make my feelings known. It would freak him— them! It would freak them out."

Finally, Alfred handed Damian his cup of tea, and he smiled up at him warmly. "I am glad you decided to seek my advice on this matter, Master Damian. You are usually so headstrong, I can tell you must harbor an awful lot of respect for this person to consider your options so carefully."

Damian willed himself not to blush, but Alfred's knowing smirk was embarrassing enough.

"It is unfair to both you and your friend to keep these feelings to yourself," Alfred said reasonably,  
"You can never truly know how they feel until you make yourself an option, as it were."

Damian nodded slowly, "So you think I should confess?"

"I think," Alfred hummed, "You should be subtle, but honest. I know it isn't your strong suit, but think of how you can approach this in a way that would make your friend say 'oh, so that's the way it is!' You don't have to shout it at them or anything, just make your feelings known as simply as you can."

"So I should extend an invitation of sorts?" Damian asked, furrowing his brows.

Alfred smiled, "Say what needs to be said, Master Damian. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Hm," Damian sipped his tea, "You know, Alfred, I've missed trying to make sense of your cryptic wisdom."

"Thank you, sir." Alfred seemed genuinely touched by this.

The two of them drank the rest of their tea in comfortable silence, though Alfred insisted Damian had to stay for dinner.

 

\---

 

On the ferry ride back to Metropolis, Damian's cellphone buzzed loudly in his pocket. To his surprise, it was Jonathan who was calling. This was odd because it was only 8 p.m, he couldn't possibly be home yet.

"Dude," Jon whined when Damian picked up, "You need to come rescue me."

It was clear from his tone he wasn't in any real danger, but Damian was puzzled by his friend's distress and thumping bass music in the background.

"What's wrong?"

"Okay, so, Larry isn't a total asshole but he got kind of the wrong vibes and I don't know, I'm just not down for it tonight. But I don't think he's going to leave me alone, can you just come? I'll text you the address."

"Sure, I'll be there soon." Damian promised, a bit surprised Jon felt incapable of handling this on his own. Then again, no one knew Jon was Superman's son, and he wasn't about to reveal that to some smarmy college kid who was staring at his ass for too long. Maybe he just didn't want to hurt the guy's feelings.

The nightclub Jon was in was only a ten minute walk away from the harbor, and Damian sprinted there in half the time. The bouncer gave him a hard look but he eventually stepped aside and let Damian in. Damian spotted Jon almost immediately. Through a crowd of very horny, gay men dancing to whatever dubstep monstrosity was blasting through the club, Jon sat on a stool by the bar, looking overwhelmed. Weaving through the crowd, Damian had almost gotten to Jon when he noticed the lanky, smiling blond at his side, who had his hand on Jon's knee. With clenched fists, Damian closed the distance between himself and the couple.

He worked up his best fake smile and tapped Jon's shoulder, "Would you like to dance?"

Larry looked offended, "Hey, buddy, we're kind of here together."

Damian ignored him, his fake smile slowly becoming real when he noticed the gratitude in Jon's eyes.

"One dance couldn't hurt," Jon said timidly, and with that, he allowed Damian to sweep him away, leaving a stunned Larry in their wake.

Once they were in the middle of the dance floor, Damian mimicked the movements of the people around him (plus what he could remember from _Dirty Dancing_ ) and he rolled his hips forwards. Jon looked like he was stifling laughter, but he began to dance, too, even going as far as wrapping his arms around Damian's shoulders.

"My hero," Jon practically giggled, "Quick, grab my waist, I think Larry will get the idea."

Damian did as told, his heart in his throat. Cautiously, he drew their bodies closer together, and soon, they really were dancing. The song changed to something a little more coherent, and Jon got into it, Damian matching his pace. 

Their eyes met at one point, and Damian knew he had to do something. Heart hammering in his chest, Damian lifted a hand from Jon's waist and slowly moved it to the base of his neck. Jon's attention came back to Damian then, and he stared at him, the song, the crowd, everything fading. Jon focused solely on Damian, who was looking at him intently, willing him to understand what this all meant.

Then Jon grinned. That was all the confirmation Damian needed before finally kissing him, rushed and relieved.

"Let's go home," Jon said as soon as the kiss was over, his cheeks dusting pink and his smile so big it looked almost painful.

"Okay," Damian laughed as he spoke, and they left the club hand in hand, Jon's grin never faltering the whole walk home.

"How long?" Jon finally asked this when they were heading up the stairs to their apartment, and it almost caught Damian off guard.

"I think," Damian took a long moment to mull his answer over, "Since we were kids, maybe. I was too much of a coward to admit it, though."

"So you like guys?" Jon peeked at him from over his shoulder, curious.

"I like you," Damian shrugged, "I've never felt like this about anyone else."

Jon's cheeks flushed a brilliant red, and he fumbled with the keys to unlock the door. Damian watched him, smiling softly.

"Do you... feel the same as I do?" Damian willed himself to ask once the door was closed behind them.

There was no immediate response, but it was simply because Jon was holding his reddened face in his hand, trying to calm down.

"Damian," Jon sighed at last, "I've loved you since high-school. But I thought you were straight— I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, that's why I kept trying to move on. God, I wish I had just talked to you."

"We're definitely both guilty of bad communication," Damian chuckled, his heart swelling. "But I'm telling you, now, that I care about you. So much."

Jon's hands fell away from his face, and he looked at Damian a little misty-eyed. _He was always so sensitive,_ Damian thought, walking over to his friend so that they were close enough to touch. Jon was taller than him by a few inches, something that used to infuriate Damian, but in this moment, he found himself grateful for Jon's height. Slowly, he took Jon's hands in his own and stood on the tips of his toes, kissing him.

This kiss was longer, deeper, and more meaningful than their first one. Here, Jon had time to kiss back, and he certainly utilized it. He was probably a much better kisser than Damian, who was far out of practice. The kiss was so lengthy that Damian couldn't keep himself on his toes much longer, and sensing this, Jon wrapped his arms around Damian's waist and held him up with his advanced strength. It was kind of hot.

This, Damian realized, didn't feel like weakness. This felt like _power._

 

\---

 

The next morning, the two of them woke in a tangle of sheets and limbs. They had pushed their beds together the night before in order to have more room to move around, but they had still stayed glued to each other in their sleep.

Jon was smiling at Damian like a child on Christmas. Everything was pleasantly comfortable.

"Oh my god," Jon said, suddenly going pale. "How are our Dads going to react?"

Damian groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Let's not be in any hurry to let them know, we'll never live it down as it is."

"Family dinners are going to be wild," Jon murmured, "And I hear everyone has trouble with their in-laws."

"You want to marry me?" Damian asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Jon lazily. 

Jon's entire body blushed, "Well— I mean, one day, maybe? Yes?"

Damian grinned, leaning up and kissing him. Relaxing, Jon kissed back nervously. Damian smirked when they broke apart, and utterly flustered, Jon tackled him back into the mattress.

"Marriage," Damian hummed, "That wouldn't be disagreeable."

Jon, rather bashfully, let his head fall to Damian's chest. "You're going to be the death of me, you know."

"Same to you," Damian snorted, and they giggled for a moment before they kissed again.

Yeah, they could both get used to this.


End file.
